


Mirror Image

by Arbryna



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Clothed Sex, Doppelcest, Doppelganger, Dubious Consent, Evil Twins, F/F, Kink Meme, Plot What Plot, Self-cest, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-21
Updated: 2012-04-21
Packaged: 2017-11-04 01:07:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arbryna/pseuds/Arbryna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When one of Zedd's spells goes awry, Kahlan is whisked away to an alternate reality, only to come face to face with...Kahlan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirror Image

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Legend of the Seeker Kink Meme](http://seeker-kinkmeme.livejournal.com), prompt _"Kahlan/evil!Kahlan, doppelganger"_.

"Oh, now this is interesting." Kahlan Amnell leans back in her throne, head held high with an arrogance that comes naturally to her—and why shouldn't it? She's brought the three territories to heel, crowned herself queen, and the lands know a peace more complete than anything in recorded history. At a certain point, the line between arrogance and justifiable pride becomes irrelevant. 

Her Majesty smirks as she looks down at the disheveled figure her guards have just dragged in. The woman is staring up at her, mouth open in shock and confusion, but even though she's clearly off-balance, there is a flash of steel in remarkably familiar blue eyes. 

The face staring back at the queen is her own, right down to the barely visible scar on her upper lip. Whatever magic is at work here, it's very powerful—and very intriguing. Are the confessors finally attempting to make a move against her? It's been ages since she crushed the last of the Resistance and drove the last of her former sisters into hiding. 

Her double's keen eyes drift over her form, as though she doesn't quite believe what she's seeing. The queen can hardly blame her for it. The woman's gaze catches on the queen's crossed legs, where the flowing black material of her dress has parted to reveal the pale skin of her thighs above her tall leather boots. Her eyes dart quickly away, but not so quickly that the queen doesn't take note of it.

"Who are you?" the woman demands. Her voice carries a regal, defiant air that the queen is quite unused to hearing. Is that what _she_ sounds like? Interesting. "And what are you doing in the Confessors' Palace?" 

The queen just lifts an eyebrow. Whoever this impostor is, she certainly has the righteous moral superiority of a confessor. It's almost adorable, how she thinks she's in any position to make demands. 

"So angry," the queen tuts, her posture rigid and imposing. "My guards tell me they found you unconscious in a ditch, and that when you came to, you claimed a name that belongs rightfully to their queen."

That throws the woman off, and her brow furrows as she falters. "Queen?" 

What is she playing at? The queen narrows her eyes; the clueless act is almost convincing. "I am Kahlan Amnell, the rightful queen of the three territories," she says, her voice chill and hard as iron. "You, on the other hand, appear to be a well-crafted impostor. Tell me, what sort of magic did you use to copy my appearance? And what wizard was suicidal enough to try it?" The wizards had been her first target, confessed down to the last, or so she thought. Without their support, it would have been much harder to claim her throne. 

"Wizard...Zedd." Realization dawns in the woman's eyes. "Spirits, that must be what happened. He was in the middle of that spell—"

"You don't mean Zeddicus?" the queen interjects, her curiosity piqued. "Zeddicus Z'ul Zorander? They told me he was dead." 

The woman shakes her head. "No, he was casting a spell, but it must have gone wrong and sent me here. This...this isn't the Midlands I know."

The shock evident on her face is too genuine to be faked. This _is_ Kahlan Amnell, the queen has to concede—at least, some version of her. Stranger things have happened, she supposes. "I think I believe you." She uncrosses her legs, noting with pleasure how Kahlan's eyes flick down to follow the movement, then pushes herself to her feet. "Why don't you come upstairs? I'll have a bath drawn for you in one of the guest rooms. We can discuss this spell of yours." 

At their queen's nod, the same pair of guards that dragged Kahlan in approach again, ready to escort her to a room. Kahlan looks at them as though seeing them for the first time. Her eyes widen and turn back on the queen accusingly. "They're all confessed." 

"Of course they are," the queen says with an indulgent laugh. "You don't think the ruler of the entire New World could trust her safety to mere patriotic loyalty?" 

"But that's—that's barbaric!" Kahlan gapes as the queen advances on her. "What of their families, their lives—"

"Their lives are mine," the queen answers sharply. "In return for their service, I let them continue breathing." She shrugs, coming to a stop a couple of paces away from Kahlan. "I think it's a very equitable arrangement." 

Kahlan shakes her head. "It goes against everything a confessor stands for."

The queen cocks her head, narrowing her eyes. "And how would you know what a confessor stands for?"

She falters, stops the words on her tongue, but the queen can see it perfectly in her double's eyes.

"You're a confessor too." Of course she is. An idea dawns in the queen's head, deliciously wicked. She takes another step, just close enough now to put Kahlan on edge. The smile that curves her lips is predatory and seductive all at once. "And you've never once considered the possibilities? Never once imagined what it would be like to have someone willing, eager to satisfy your _every_ desire?"

Horror grows in Kahlan's eyes, almost palpable. "I would never ask someone to sacrifice their free will just to bring me _pleasure_ ," she spits venomously. 

The clear disapproval in her tone is an interesting change from the bowing and scraping the queen is used to. She laughs, low and rich. "Oh, I don't ask."

Pacing a leisurely circle around Kahlan, the queen rakes her eyes over this body so like her own. The dress she wears hugs her curves in much the same way as the queen's own, but it's pure white instead of black—stained with dirt and grass from the ditch she was pulled out of—and laced higher in the front. Some feeble attempt at modesty, no doubt, like the dark underskirt she wears to conceal her legs. 

With an amused smirk, the queen completes her circuit, coming to stop in front of Kahlan once more. She lifts her fingers to trace the neckline of the white dress, her smirk growing as Kahlan shivers and recoils. 

"What are you doing?" Her voice wavers nervously, hands worrying at each other where they are clasped in front of her.

"It's not every day I have my very own double standing before me, in the flesh," the queen drawls, her fingertips dancing across Kahlan's collarbone. Even the freckles dusting Kahlan's chest hold the same pattern as her own. "I wonder how far the similarities go."

Kahlan's eyes widen at the implication, and she stiffens; she doesn't step away, though, and there's a dark glimmer of interest in her eyes that she fails to hide. The queen latches onto it, dragging her fingers up Kahlan's neck to tangle in dark hair.

Her double's lips are firm and resistant at first, but they part in surprise at the touch of the queen's tongue. They grow slack as that tongue languidly explores Kahlan's mouth. She doesn't respond, but she doesn't push away either.

"As I thought," the queen murmurs against Kahlan's lips. She tastes like nothing, like the queen's own mouth. Kahlan shakes—from indignant rage or repressed desire, the queen isn't sure, but she has a feeling it's a little of both. She slides her hand free of Kahlan's hair, dragging fingertips down across her chest as she moves around to press against her back. "A confessor as good and moral as you must have all kinds of hidden desires," she purrs into Kahlan's ear as her hands circle Kahlan from behind, resting lightly on her hips. "Have you ever even felt a touch that wasn't your own?"

Kahlan is silent for a moment, her cheek burning hot against the queen's. "That's none of your business," she finally forces out, trying in vain to keep her voice even. 

The queen smirks into the side of Kahlan's throat, sliding her hands over her double's body. One moves up to tease along the neckline of her dress again, nails dragging just under the edge to tease the top of a full breast; the other drifts down, pressing between Kahlan's legs. She can feel Kahlan's sex hot under her palm through the layers of fabric. Kahlan gasps, and her hips jerk unconsciously into the contact. 

"I thought you'd like that." The queen's breasts, barely contained by the generous neckline of her dress, press tightly against her double's back; Kahlan's pulse pounds beneath the queen's lips. "It's almost like touching myself, only more fun." 

Kahlan's eyes dart around the room, at the guards still posted at each entrance. The queen follows the movement of her head, chuckling as she realizes the woman's concern. 

"They'll see what I want them to see, nothing more." Her hand slides farther into Kahlan's dress, fully cupping an ample breast, as she drags Kahlan's skirts up with the other. Kahlan is trembling against her, still struggling to resist. The queen traces the edge of Kahlan's smallclothes, smiling at the small, needy whine that sounds in Kahlan's throat. "Tell me you want this."

"I don't," Kahlan says stubbornly, but the catch in her breath as the queen's fingers brush over her cloth-covered sex says differently.

The queen laughs, dipping her fingers under the edge of Kahlan's smallclothes—how novel, the queen hasn't worn them in years—and sliding them through dripping folds. "You should know better than to lie to a confessor."

Kahlan whimpers, low and wanting, as the queen's fingertips tease at her entrance, slipping just inside before retreating. 

"Please." The word comes out as a barely audible gasp, and the queen smirks, nipping at the juncture of Kahlan's neck and shoulder. 

"Since you asked so nicely." The queen tugs at a hardened nipple as she slides two fingers into Kahlan's slick heat. Kahlan arches against the queen's thrusts, cunt clenching hungrily at the digits. The queen arches an eyebrow. "More?" 

Her only reply is a low whine and an emphatic jerk of her hips. Magnanimously, the queen adds another finger, pumping in a steadily increasing rhythm as her other hand abandons Kahlan's breast to join its mate between her legs. With the queen's fingers plunging in and out of her cunt, and skilled fingers rubbing at her clit, Kahlan is reduced to a rocking, moaning mess; the queen's arms around her just may be the only thing holding her up. 

That thought is confirmed as Kahlan shudders out her climax, her knees buckling beneath her. She slumps back against the queen, sucking in deep breaths as she tries to regain her balance. The queen pulls away slowly, letting Kahlan find her footing before she sweeps back toward her throne. She sinks down into her seat with legs spread, her skirt falling open to bare inner thighs slick with arousal.

Kahlan just stares at the brazen display, looking uneasy and ashamed and sated all at once as the queen licks Kahlan's release from her fingers. "So, are you just going to stand there, or are you going to return the favor?" 

Eyes widening with more than just indignant shock, Kahlan crosses her arms over her chest. "I didn't ask you to—"

"No, you didn't," the queen replies with a steely smile. "And I pleasured you anyway. Wasn't that generous of me?"

Spirits, it's been so long since the queen has seen that marked defiance on the face of a lover. Oh, it's pleasing enough to have an endless line of men and women eager to fulfill whatever passing desire she might have, but this—real, genuine resistance; the ability to say no, even if it would be futile—is delicious. 

Kahlan looks around at the guards once more, seeming to realize that there's really no way out of this. The queen's request was posed as a question out of courtesy; it's as much an order as any she's ever given. 

The fire in Kahlan's eyes blazes bright as ever as she approaches the throne, somehow managing to look proud even as she kneels at the queen's feet. Knowing hands slide up along the queen's legs, thumbs teasing at the juncture of her thighs. The queen shivers, relaxing against the back of her seat and spreading her legs wider. 

It's a welcome surprise when, instead of fumbling fingers, the queen feels the warm, slick touch of a tongue on her sex. One hand curls over the arm of her throne, clutching tight as Kahlan sucks her clit between pink lips. The other hand shoots to Kahlan's head, nails scraping over her scalp as the queen tangles her fingers in dark hair. 

A warm hand presses against the inside of the queen's thigh as sure fingers join Kahlan's mouth at her sex. Kahlan plunges three of them deep and rough as her teeth scrape over the queen's sensitized clit. Her touch is skilled; far more so than could be expected from a blushing virgin. The queen finds herself happily forced to reconsider her previous assessment of her double.

She sets a brutal pace, and the queen finds herself at the edge much sooner than she expected; the single-minded dedication of most of her lovers is apparently no match for the element of surprise. She lets out a loud, urgent moan as she grinds up into Kahlan's mouth, her climax crashing through her with an intensity she hasn't felt for years. 

"There's no way you haven't done that before," the queen pants as Kahlan's fingers slide free.

Kahlan doesn't answer; she just braces her hands on the queen's thighs, pushing herself to her feet and stepping away from the throne. Her shoulders are set, her chin lifted in proud defiance even as it glistens with the queen's release.

The queen sighs, closing her eyes to savor the dull throb between her legs. When she opens them again, she smiles at the awkward way Kahlan is trying to keep from shifting uneasily. 

"I am not without sympathy," she says with a wave of her hand. "I'll have my wizards look into your predicament. If they can find a way to return you to your own world, you are free to go."

Kahlan's eyes narrow suspiciously. "And the catch?"

The smile on the queen's lips takes a darker turn. "Until then, you agree to serve me. In any way I see fit."

"Why even bother with a deal?" Kahlan scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. "Don't you just take what you want anyway?"

The queen laughs. "Because, Kahlan, as fun as unconditional servitude is, it gets boring." Her eyes drift over Kahlan's disheveled appearance; cheeks flushed, lips swollen, hair a tangled mess, and still that rebellious glint in her eyes. "You are...a refreshing change of pace. I can't confess you to get what I want, and I like a challenge."

It's not much of a choice; the queen knows that. Without the skills of her wizards, this Kahlan has no chance of returning to her own life. Still, it's fun to pretend. 

Kahlan's gaze turns distant for a moment as she considers her options; then it locks onto the queen's own once again. "You have a deal."

  
_end._   



End file.
